Incident at the Waters of Marah
by R - Equine Writer
Summary: When drought hits the trail, Gil Favor is sure that the heat isn't the only thing that is getting to the drovers.  Please, please, please R&R!  Thankyou!
1. The Drought

Rawhide

Incident at the Waters of Marah

Chapter 1: The Drought

Pete Nolan: On a cattle drive, you have to face a lot of problems that come your way. Water is often a difficulty, sometimes there's too much of it, after a heavy rainstorm; but sometimes there's too little. Anyway, someone's got to find the water to feed both man and beast – and that's down to me. I'm Pete Nolan, the scout of this drive.

Rowdy licked his dry lips. It had been three days since they had seen the last waterhole – and now their water supplies were very low. What little water he had had in his canteen from Wishbone's rationing for that day, was now all spent. But still they had another hour or so to drive in the intense heat.

The cattle were bellowing cries of discontent, along with murmurs of revolt – but there was nothing to do except keep them moving. The only hope that Rowdy had had, went with his last drop of water. He took off his hat, and ran his hands through his hair in almost desperation, whilst mopping his brow with his bandana for the hundredth time that day. Fox was panting, and beginning to froth at the mouth. The drought was awful! How did they know that the next expected waterhole wouldn't be all dried up by the time they reached it? They didn't know – that was the truth of it. No one knew what was up ahead.

He tried to swallow, but his throat stuck together uncomfortably. Would he have to see each of the cattle drop down one by one, till even he and the other drovers followed their example? No! Surely it wouldn't come to that.

Through the refraction of the heat, Rowdy could just make out an increasing billow of dust coming towards him. Rowdy urged Fox on to the approaching rider. It was Mr. Favor. His face was now pinched with anxiety, and when he spoke, it was with a sharper tone to his voice than at other times.

"Mr. Favor, how are things?" Rowdy said inquiringly. His voice seemed dry and crackled strangely in his throat before any words came out.

Favor shook his head. "Pete seems to think we'll reach water in a couple of days – but Wishbone's fractious. As far as he's concerned, we need to reach water by noon tomorrow!"

Rowdy frowned, and inwardly winced at the thought of the terrible feeling of thirst getting worse. "Pete says a couple of days? We can't last that long. The cattle can't – let alone us! They've no water – at least we have! Not that we've much!"

"There's no changing anything by getting all riled up," Gil Favor said. "I learnt that a long time ago – it's time you learnt it."

He firmly squeezed his horse, and rode off back to his position of point.

Rowdy took of his hat and shaking his head, wiped his brow and the back of his neck. He just wanted the day's work to end. He found himself actually beginning to look forward to Wishbone's stew! He could almost smell the beef cooking, and taste the warm stew running down his throat. But then he realized that the only beef he could smell was the live kind; and the only thing he could taste was dust.

The drovers punched the doggies on to where Wishbone had already set up camp. Mushy was tending to the fire, whilst Wishbone busied himself at the chuckwagon. Each of the riders, saddle sore and bone weary, parched and fatigued, were glad to finally dismount, and leave their horses with Jesus, the wrangler.

Wishbone was muttering away to himself whilst Mushy quietly stared at the flames of the fire. Rowdy was the first to notice what was missing.

"Hey, Wish," he cried, making his way up to the old cook and rubbing his knee. "Where's the stew pot? I've kinda been counting on that stew all day – how come you haven't started it yet?"

Wishbone looked at Rowdy with a cantankerous and annoyed expression. "Well, Rowdy Yates. I apologize if your disappointed – but don't tell me you thought I was going to waste what little water we have left all on a stew? There's hardly enough there to make coffee, let alone a stew!"

He continued to hack away at some dry beef. There were slices of sourdough bread next to the meat, and it was all too plain to see that they had to undergo dry sandwiches for supper.

Pete rode in at that moment. He had gone on a little, up to where the high country ended, and where you could see the plains sweeping and rolling for miles ahead.

"See anything that looked like water, Pete?" Favor asked.

Pete didn't reply straightforwardly, but merely said, "Mr. Favor, could you come with me a minute?"

Favor frowned and upon remounting his horse, galloped up to Pete. The two rode together up to the highest point on the dry tableland which they had been traversing these past few days.

"I didn't want to build up the men's hopes, Mr. Favor," Pete said. "It could just be a mirage – the heat's so bad – enough to trick a man – but I'm sure that's water out there."

Mr. Favor strained his eyes and peered. True enough, something lay ahead that shone and shimmered like water. It was a wonderful sight! "That's water alright! The men will want to know. Everyone's piqued and anxious – it'll do them good to know."

Pete smiled quietly, "Just so long as my eyes weren't playing tricks on me," he murmured.

Gil Favor looked across at Pete. "It's there Pete. It's there for real!" He could have smiled – the relief was tremendous. But they still had to reach the water. They weren't there yet. No point in smiling when things weren't wholly resolved.

"How long do you suppose the journey is?" he asked his scout.

"Depends how much we can push those steers," Pete replied. "We could make it tomorrow night at a push – but it looks over ten miles."

"We'll push 'em alright," Favor said decisively.

The two men fell silent and looked for another couple of seconds at that rippling hope ahead of them, and then rode back to camp.

They arrived just in the nick of time. All day the men had been touchy – who wouldn't be? But now it had resorted to blows!

Favor jumped off his horse, and dashed over to the two men who were fighting.

"Alright," he cried. "Break it up!"

He grabbed onto one of the men's shoulders, but the man shook off Mr. Favor, and dashed once more for his opponent.

"I said break it up!" Mr. Favor barked. It took both Pete and Rowdy's help to finally separate the two men.

"Alright," Mr. Favor said, looking at Dexter and Colby, the two men who had been fighting. "What was this all about?"

The two men, breathing heavily, looked at one another with revulsion, but said nothing.

"I said, what is this all about?" Favor repeated firmly.

Colby, still breathing heavily and glaring at Dexter, said coldly, "It's none of your business, Mr. Favor."

Mr. Favor stuck his thumb in his gun belt, and stood to his full height. "This is my cattle drive – whilst I'm trail boss, I make everything that happens on my outfit my business."

"Well, perhaps you're taking the post of trail boss too far, Mr. Favor," Colby said with a scowl. "Your job's to lead the cattle, but let us men lead our own lives."

Favor frowned. "Perhaps some others feel like you?" he looked studiously at each of the men, but no one spoke up. "Remember this Colby, I don't allow fighting."

Colby smiled curtly. "You ordering me about?"

"That's right," Favor said. "You have any objections, feel welcome to collect your pay and go. I won't stop you. I've no room on my outfit for troublemakers."

"Perhaps you want to demonstrate that," Colby said threateningly.

"Like I said," Favor said, eyeing the man thoroughly. "I don't allow fighting – and I definitely don't fight my own men. You stay on, and still want a fight when we reach Sedalia, I'll be glad to oblige - but not before!"

The man turned around and walked off, smiling obnoxiously. Pete wandered up close to Favor and said, "Do you think he's going to cause any more trouble, Mr. Favor?"

"I don't know, Pete. The men are likely to be touchy what with the drought – but we'd better keep an eye on Colby all the same."

The fight had made Favor forget the water for the time being, but before they bedded down for the night, he made sure he told them all the good news. It inspired each one of them – he had known it would. When the men got their bedrolls out of the supply wagon, they felt a new hope issuing forth out of them that was catching. Everyone caught the optimism with a new founded joy. That was, all except for Colby. He seemed immune to the 'joy bug' that was filling the camp. Instead of the eager anticipation that shone from the other men's eyes, his shot forth bitterness and revenge. Favor saw it by the light of the camp fire, as though a naked knife's blade had caught the reflection of the light. He saw it, and remembered it; and the prospect of water wasn't the only thing on his mind that night.

One by one the men fell asleep. Dexter went on night watch with Jim Quince, but the thirst of the cattle increased their unrest. The sounds of the lowing of the cattle, along with the crickets and distant coyotes, mingled with the silence. The night was peaceful, and all, for now, was calm.


	2. Water at Last

**Many thanks to those who have added me to their story alert, author alert, favourite author and favourite story lists! Please R&R! Thank you!**

**Last time: Drought has hit the trail – and two of Favor's men, Colby and Dexter, have had a fight – but Colby refuses to tell Favor why. Now water is up ahead, and all are eager to reach it.**

Chapter 2: Water at Last

The day dawned too soon for the fatigued men the next day. But thoughts of water up ahead soon refreshed the weary men, and they were chatting in their usual manner over their sourdough biscuits and coffee. The chatter died down when Colby entered the camp after having been on the second night shift. His approach did not bode well. Dexter looked uncomfortable and almost abashed, and instantly stood up and walked away, leaning against a nearby tree. Rowdy watched Dexter's moves intently, and wandered over to Quince.

"Hey, Quince," Rowdy said, munching a rock hard biscuit as best he could. "Did Dexter say anything to you last night about the fight?"

"No, Rowdy," Quince said. "Hey, you think something's up?"

Rowdy smiled and gave Quince a friendly slap on the back. "What could possibly be up?" he asked. He knew that he couldn't hide his consternation well, so he walked away, and up to Dexter.

"Dexter," Rowdy began. "I've been wondering why you and Colby…"

Before he could finish, he saw a sudden altered expression on Dexter's face as he looked with a fixed expression on something. Rowdy, turning around, followed his gaze, and saw that Colby was approaching.

"Morning, Yates," he said, smiling, but not in a friendly manner. "Think we'll find water today?"

"I don't know; Mr. Favor hopes so," Rowdy said. "Anyway, Dexter, as I was saying…"

"Mind if I join you?" Colby interrupted, walking right up to them.

Rowdy shrugged his shoulders. He did mind really, but if they were going to keep the peace (and that was what Mr. Favor wanted), then he had to be friendly.

"What are we talking about?" Colby asked, breaking the awkward silence that had followed his approach.

"_We_ aren't talking about anything," Dexter said firmly. "Rowdy was talking to me."

"Well, Rowdy, nothing that can't be said in front of me, I'm sure. I've always said if a man isn't to be around when folks are talking, then it's sure to be about him."

Rowdy looked at Colby, his face fluctuating with stifled impatience. "Well then, as that's what you're assuming, I guess it's only fair to tell you that you're right!"

He stalked off, trying to check his temper.

"Tetchy youth, ain't he?" Colby asked Dexter.

Dexter ignored him.

"You still sore about yesterday?" Colby asked.

Dexter turned on him. "No! You've had it coming all the drive so far. If I'd known you'd sign on, I'd never have done so myself you dirty, yellow-livered…"

"Now just a moment! You're just as bad as me, remember? We did everything we did together, so why the change?"

"Because I discovered it was bad!" Dexter cried.

"You always were weak though, I know you won't tell Mr. Favor about my past."

"Who's says I wouldn't?" Dexter asked.

Colby smiled. "Oh, I know you won't. What's to stop me from revealing your past to everyone in the camp, starting with Mr. Favor? I won't tell anyone about you, if you don't tell anyone about me. You let something slip from your big bazoo; I let something slip from mine!"

Dexter's face clouded. "You wouldn't?" he cried. "I'm starting a new life – I don't know if you are, but I am!"

"Then all we need do is both keep silent," Colby said, smiling horribly. "What do you say?"

Dexter, hating himself for doing it, agreed with him. He hadn't meant to ever agree to something with Colby again – but he found himself giving in for, as he had always said in other cases, the last time.

It was Mr. Favor's voice that brought the two men back to camp. "Alright, let's butt those saddles!"

Wishbone and Mushy handed out the last of the canteens with the rationed water to the men, and climbed up onto the seat on the chuckwagon, and the other men went to the remuda to get their horses. Once mounted, they headed out to their different positions for herding the cattle, each eager for the water that was up ahead.

"Alright, men," Favor said, "let's head 'em up, and move 'em out!"

With the cattle lowing pitifully for water, the men punched them on. Favor calculated in his mind the extent that they would have to push his herd. The distance was perhaps almost twelve miles, at a guess – they usually covered eight a day. They could cover more if pressed in easy conditions, but the cattle were weary from lack of water. It was a problem, but he was determined, and when Mr. Favor was determined, the drovers were, and when they were, the cattle didn't have much of a chance to go against them.

The chuckwagon and supply wagon rattled on. The horses, sometimes trotting, sometimes galloping, rode by the cattle, shying away at times when horns came too close. With cries of 'Yah' and 'Yo', the drag riders pushed, and the flank and swing riders punched. Looking back to the river of cattle behind, and forward to the distant river ahead, the point riders led the drive. They were coming to the end of the plateau now. The small bumps in the grass were getting bigger, which made Wishbone grumble and Mushy hold on for all his worth.

Mr. Favor rode up to the chuckwagon; Rowdy followed instinctively. "You alright, Wishbone?" Favor asked.

"Well, I am," Wishbone said, "but this lousy wagon ain't. Another of these bumps and it'll loose a wheel!"

"Mr. Wishbone," Mushy said nervously. "Ain't we going downhill?"

"Well, yes," Wishbone admitted, not seeing Mushy's point.

"Well, we might tip out before the wheel comes off!"

"Well I'm glad you thought of that," Wishbone said sarcastically, showing Mushy with the expression on his face that he meant quite the opposite. "See, even my cook's louse has sense enough to see that this don't work none!" Wishbone cried angrily.

Mr. Favor looked at Rowdy, trying to hide the amusement from his face. "Well," he said. "I can't think of anything to do Wishbone. Unless you want to wait here forever on top of this plateau, I see no other way than going down here."

"Well, I like that!" Wishbone cried. "I thought you might lift me down!"

Favor looked at Rowdy, and read in his eyes the same idea. "Well, Rowdy, what do say about that?"

"Sure thing," Rowdy said, grinning widely. "Hey, Mush, give me a hand here."

He dismounted, and upon walking over to the wagon, held on to Wishbone, and proceeded to lift him from his seat.

"What are you doing, Rowdy Yates? Put me down!" Wishbone demanded infuriatedly.

"Well, make up your mind, Wish," Rowdy said, stroking the side of his face. "You said you wanted a lift down!"

"I meant the wagon, you leather brain!" Wishbone said, and with a snap of the reins, the wagon started off again, giving Rowdy just a second to jump down from the side where he had been perched.

Wishbone, scowling and muttering to himself, looked at poor Mushy, who had said nothing, and cried, "Aw, shut up!"

Rowdy remounted Fox, and the two men rode back to point. Mr. Favor looked back at the cattle; they were slowing down terribly. "Keep 'em rolling!" he shouted to the men. "Speed 'em up!"

"Mr. Favor," Rowdy said, hesitantly.

Gil Favor breathed deeply. "Alright, let's have it. What's on your mind?"

"A lot of things!" Rowdy said. "I'm thinking of the heat, the water, the men, the cattle, the fight yesterday…"

"I saw you approach Dexter earlier," Mr. Favor interrupted. "What was that about? The fight?"

"Well, yes," Rowdy said. "Don't _you_ want to know what it was about?"

"Probably just the heat," Favor commented simply. "Of course I want to know Rowdy, and I intend to know yet; even if it has to wait till we get to Sedalia."

"You mean when it comes down to fists between you and Colby?"

"That's exactly what I mean," Favor said. "Anything else you want to talk about?"

Rowdy took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. "No, it's alright. We've got cattle to move."

He turned Fox around, and galloped off to where a few steers had been allowed to wander, leaving Mr. Favor looking in his direction with a pleased expression.

_He's a good youth._ Gil Favor thought to himself. _Sure he's impetuous, hot-headed, and reckless, but I'm fond of him. _He smiled. _Very fond!_

The rest of the day wore on as wearily as the cattle lumbered across the prairie. The heat increased as the day went on, until it was even more unbearable than the previous day. As Rowdy rode along, he felt a sudden desire to have a nice long bathe in some ice-cold water. He sighed happily at the lovely thought; but as all imaginations of the mind end, he was brought back to reality when he felt someone press something into his hand. He looked dejectedly at the two bits of bread with a lump of meat between, and then stared at the giver.

"We've got to keep moving," Favor said. "We can't stop to eat – have to eat in your saddle today."

Rowdy nodded in assent, and proceeded to ram the dry sandwich down his dry throat that needed anything but that! He reached down to his canteen, and took a few sips.

Favor had ridden off, so Rowdy was left once more to his thoughts. The food was soon gone. Rowdy rarely lost his appetite, even in this incredible heat! He once more set about his job, keeping the cattle in line, and trying to hurry them along. He knew that every second was important in getting to water – that was why they hadn't stopped for lunch. He looked intently at the cattle. They were slowing down terribly. He shook his head.

"Speed 'em up!" he barked at the other drovers. "Scarlett – keep those steers in." He hesitated at his own voice. The heat was obviously beginning to get at him, making him bark orders like that as if he was Mr. Favor. He didn't care though – they had to move those cattle on, and besides, he _was_ the ramrod!

The rest of the day dragged on. Rowdy got lost in his thoughts more than once. It was as he was musing to himself again, that he suddenly heard Pete Nolan cry, 'Yee Ha!", and appear galloping toward Mr. Favor. Rowdy spurred Fox on up to the trail boss, and arrived just as the breathless scout began to say excitedly, "Water, Mr. Favor. Just beyond that rise! We've made it! I saw it with my own two eyes!"

A broad smile of relief appeared on Mr. Favor's face. "Thank God," he cried. "Alright," he called, raising his hand into the air, and insinuating with his hand the direction where Nolan had said the water was, "keep 'em coming. Water up ahead."

The air was filled with cries of excitement from the men! The cattle could obviously smell the water. Rowdy turned to Mr. Favor with a broad grin on his face. "You know, you can almost hear the excitement in their bawls!"

Favor raised an eyebrow at Rowdy, but smiled. He knew what he meant. Certainly the cattle seemed to have picked up speed as they caught the scent of water, for they were already rounding the rise. Then, there it was!

The chuckwagon was already down by the water, and Wishbone and Mushy were just descending. Rowdy ran the back of his hand across his brow and looked at the water. It was a wonderful sight!

Favor kept calling to the other drovers, "Keep 'em coming!" The cattle were tearing down to the water now, just as Pete dismounted, and, wandering round the waterhole, advanced to the water on the other side of the approaching cattle.

The sound of the cattle splashing in the water was a wonderful relief to the ears who had heard nothing but loud awareness of the scorching heat for days now. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dexter rode out of line and galloped down to the water. Tumbling off his horse, he threw himself into the water, laughing, yelling and splashing about, heedless of the cattle that were around him.

"Dexter!" Favor called to the man. "Careful – you're making the cattle jumpy."

Favor jumped down from his horse and ran down to the water. He grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him out of the water, just as he began to lap up the water from his cupped hands. "We've got cattle to water – then we can drink. Get back to your work!"

The man began to frown. "But, Mr. Favor…" he retorted.

"But what? We've had water, but the cattle haven't these past days. Now are you going to obey orders, or not?"

In answer, Dexter walked back to his horse, dodging the cattle as they rushed down to the water, remounted, and rode back to help with the cattle.

It was then that Pete gave a sudden exclamation, and cried, "Turn them around – turn them back!"


	3. Hemlock

**Last time: After days of drought – they have found water at last. But why has Pete Nolan suddenly told the other drovers to turn the cattle back – away from the water?**

Chapter 3: Hemlock

Gil Favor frowned. "What are you doing, Pete?" he yelled across the waterhole at his scout, who was running through the water, scaring the cattle away.

Pete Nolan didn't answer, but continued to chase the steers out of the water.

"What's going on?" Favor barked.

Once the cattle had been scared out of the water, Pete hurried over to Mr. Favor, and said, "Boss, the water's poisoned."

"You sure?" Favor said, his face clouding over.

"As sure as I breathe," Pete said. "I went to taste the water, but before it touched my mouth, I smelt the poison."

M. Favor walked down to the evacuated water, and dipping his hand in, he raised it to his face. "Hemlock!" he exclaimed, shaking the water from his hand, and thoroughly wiping it dry on his chaps.

"Mr. Favor, I'm sorry…"

"Sorry?" Favor said angrily. "Sorry? You know what hemlock does to cattle – to men?"

"Yes, Mr. Favor, I do." Pete tossed his hat in his hands uncomfortably.

"Well, you try telling that to Dexter."

"Dexter? Well, what's he got to do with this?"

"He had a drink!"

Pete stood still, and stared at Mr. Favor in disbelief. Rowdy rode down to Mr. Favor.

"Boss, why have you stopped the cattle?"

"Bad water," Favor said quickly, not even looking at Rowdy. "Alright, Pete; you want to do something to help – go and find Dexter, and bring him here!" he said crossly.

Pete nodded his head, and upon mounting Spot, rode off to find Dexter. The two men soon rode back to Mr. Favor. They both dismounted, and Dexter walked up to Mr. Favor.

"Look, Mr. Favor, I know you're sore about me having drunk some water, but…"

"How much did you drink?" Favor demanded.

"Come on, there's plenty for all."

"How much did you drink?" Favor repeated.

Dexter could read something in Mr. Favor's eyes that he didn't like. "What's the matter Mr. Favor? Why've you stopped the cattle anyway?"

"I want to know how much you drank!"

Dexter frowned, "A few handfuls, why?"

"The water's bad," Favor said.

"Bad?" Dexter repeated, his voice becoming anxious.

Favor hesitated, "The water's poisoned."

Dexter gripped his bandana, and tugged at the knot nervously. "What kind of poison, Mr. Favor?" he asked in a steady, yet cold voice.

"Hemlock."

Dexter shut his eyes for a moment, whilst a shiver went up his spine. "Mr. Favor," he said. "There's no cure, I know that, you know that – there's no need to hide it. I want you to do a favour for me."

Favor nodded his head, "Sure," he said. "Whatever you want."

"I want you to send what I've earned to my daughter. She lives with my sister in Texas, so it won't be out of your way. It can wait till the end of the drive. Give her this," he reached inside the pocket on the inside of his leather jacket, and produced a picture of a beautiful woman, himself, and a small baby. "That there's my wife and kid," he stopped, his voice full of emotion. "My poor baby," and he kissed the picture before giving it to Mr. Favor. "She's seven now, seven and without her Ma and soon to be without…" his voice trembled, so he paused for a moment. "And Mr. Favor, I want you to take this. Don't refuse it. An old friend gave it to me, and I'd kinda like to pass it on to you. He was a lot like you – my friend was."

Favor smiled sadly as Dexter passed him a pocket watch. The trail boss glanced at it, and then looked back at Dexter. His eyes seemed far away, as if he was in a semi-trance inside his head.

"Thank you," Favor said, putting it in his pocket. "Where do your sister and daughter live?"

"Here, I have the address," and Dexter drew out an envelope from his pocket.

Favor took Dexter's arm firmly, "Come over to the chuckwagon, Wishbone might have something for you yet."

"No, Mr. Favor, don't let's deceive ourselves," Dexter said. He shook his head as a sickness came over him, and let Mr. Favor lead him over to the chuckwagon.

Rowdy watched Favor help the man over to Wishbone. "Pete," Rowdy said. "How come…?"

"It was a mistake, alright?" Pete said, raising his voice. He stalked off.

Rowdy looked after him in surprise. Pete was a quiet sort of man – he rarely raised his voice. It just wasn't like him.

After a little while, the cattle had been turned back some way, so that they wouldn't make their way back to the water by the smell of it. Wishbone had set up a camp, just by the rise, in full view of the cattle. The herd had settled down now, and the drovers were walking down to the camp together in a group, headed by Joe Scarlet. "Mr. Favor, we want to know what's going on."

Favor turned around to face them, and said quite simply, "The water's been poisoned."

A murmur went around the men. Everyone started to ask questions, whilst Jesus merely crossed himself and whispered, "Santa Maria!"

"I don't know how," Favor said, "but it's been poisoned by hemlock alright."

"If we don't have anything to drink, Mr. Favor, we'll die," one man, called Phillips, said.

"If you do have any of that drink, you'll die," Favor replied.

"What do you say men? We either die thirsty, or we die with water in our bellies! What do you say?" And with that, Phillips darted towards the water.

Favor was there first, with his gun in hand. "Alright, that's far enough," he said, standing between Phillips and the waterhole. "I'm not having anyone commit suicide on my outfit."

"It's not suicide, Mr. Favor," Phillips cried. "It's just choosing how we'd prefer to die!"

Favor took a deep breath. "No one's drinking this water, and that's that! If anyone tries, I'll deal with them. I'm not going to have any more dying men on my hands."

Walking away from the water, he insinuated to Dexter. Wishbone had made him as comfortable as possible on his bedroll, but he had already spewed all that was in him, and now just sat there, staring into space.

"Well, what happened to Dexter?" Quince asked, approaching Mr. Favor.

"He drank some water," Favor said quietly. He looked with concern as Dexter's breathing became more desperate. He wandered over and squatted down next to him.

"Mr. Favor," Dexter whispered in a hoarse voice, whilst he continued to stare in space. "How much longer do you think I've got."

Mr. Favor's face was grim and set and his eyes were sad. He shook his head, "I don't know. Perhaps an hour or more…"

"Mr. Favor," Dexter coughed uncomfortably. "I wish you'd shoot me."

Mr. Favor shook his head, "I'm sorry, Dexter. I can't do that."

"Why, Mr. Favor, why?" Dexter slowly raised his head, and looked at Mr. Favor with a look of desperation in his eyes.

Favor shook his head again. "I can't do that."

Dexter's head nodded as though he was dizzy, but he forced himself to look at Mr. Favor. "Please, don't think badly of me…" he began, his voice now slow and breathless.

"Think badly? Why would I?"

"Let me talk…please. Don't think badly of me, because of my past. It doesn't matter anymore. I can tell you because I won't be around for anyone to cuss my name when I'm about. I just hope you won't let them do it when I'm dead."

"What do you mean, Dexter?" Favor asked, trying to make sense of what his cowhand was saying.

"Mean? Oh, what does it matter? Nothing matters now. Only, perhaps I should tell you," he swallowed hard and coughed again, "about me and Colby…"

He urged, whilst coughing and spluttering at the same time. Then he closed his eyes and fell back.

"Dexter," Favor cried, grasping him.

"He gone, Mr. Favor?" Wishbone asked, approaching.

Favor shook his head, "Not yet, just unconscious."

"Won't be long, then," Wishbone said, shaking his head.

Favor looked at Dexter, and took a deep breath. The next thing he was aware of, Rowdy was squatting next to him, scratching his head slowly. "That's the last thing he'll ever say," Favor murmured.

There was a pause, and then Rowdy asked, "What did he say?"

Another slight pause, and then Gil Favor said, "He said, 'Colby'."

Rowdy hesitated. "He tell you about the fight?" he asked, hopefully.

"He was about to," Favor said, taking his hat off and slamming it down on his knee. He turned around, and saw that everyone's eyes were peeled on Dexter.

"Alright," he said, "Wishbone, how about some chow?"

No one felt like eating that night, but Mr. Favor made them, telling them that they'd need all their strength for tomorrow. A couple of hours had passed since they had found the water, now. Favor decided it was time he checked on the cattle.

"Rowdy, I want you to come with me," he called to his ramrod. Rowdy lifted his hat from where it hung on his holster, and placed it on his head. Favor and Yates mounted their horses, and then rode out to where the cattle were. It wasn't long before they found the first dead steer.

"Just as I expected," Favor said, after jumping down and inspecting it. Rowdy jumped down, too, and looked at the steer. It had a foamy froth around its mouth, which indicated what its suffering had been like.

Rowdy rubbed the back of his neck. "How many do you think we've lost?"

"We'll soon find out," Favor said, and jumped back on his horse. Rowdy did the same, and they rode together, discovering plenty of dead steers along the way. There were a few who were still breathing. Including those, for they wouldn't last long, they had lost almost a couple of hundred steers that day. Who was to say that things were going to stop there? Alright, perhaps there wasn't going to be any more bad water, but what about the heat, and the drought? Favor knew that there was not much chance of the herd pulling through. Their chances were very slight, but as slight as they were, something inside him told him that they had to press on. There was no turning back, anyway. There was nothing behind – so they had no choice but to step forward. Favor scanned the horizon. Nothing but dry plains all around, unless you'd include the rocky hills and cliffs to his left; but they were plainly inaccessible to cattle. No, there was nothing to do but press forward.

When Rowdy and Mr. Favor rode back to camp, it was all over.

A grave was dug, and then all the men gathered round as Mr. Favor said some words over the body, and all said the Lord's Prayer together.

That night, instead of the usual chat around the campfire, all was quiet, as every man thought that it could have been him. Perhaps that would be better than the slow death of thirst, perhaps not. Well, they would find out in the days that were ahead, that was for sure. Pete was terribly quiet, and sat all by himself. Everyone was hot, irritable, melancholy, and most of all, parched. All the water had been used up on the canteens that morning. That morning? It seemed much longer than that – so much had happened.

It was maddening to think that they were so near to water, but that they couldn't drink it. It was all the men could do to keep themselves from running down and flinging themselves in the water, and lap it up.

"Wishbone, you've got some whiskey in that chuckwagon," Phillips cried, wiping the perspiration from his head. "Hand it out."

"Now you know that's for medication!" Wishbone cried.

"Hand it out, Wishbone!" Phillips cried, drawing his gun. "Hand it out!"

Wishbone looked resolutely at the barrel of Phillips' gun. It was Mr. Favor who darted to his rescue.

"Now, wait a minute, Phillips," Gil Favor cried. He grabbed the gun from the man's hand. "There's no call for that! Alright, I see no reason in sparing the whiskey. Go on, Wishbone, hand it out."

Wishbone's very eyes argued, but nevertheless, he said, "Mushy, get that bottle of whiskey."

Mushy instantly complied, and soon a sparse amount of whiskey was divided between the men in tin cups. It helped a little, but not much, as the whiskey seemed to sting the dryness of their throats. That was the last of any drink they had left, so now it was necessary for them to find water, or else –

Each man thought desperately of what the future held for them. Their present predicament did not look promising, that was certain, and as they pondered on their situation, things seemed bleaker and bleaker.

Mushy was sitting next to Wishbone. He had been silent for a long time, as if considering something very seriously, but now he decided to speak up. "Mr. Wishbone," he said, in his usual nervy manner.

"What is it?" Wishbone asked in irritation.

"I've been thinking."

"Well make sure it doesn't hurt too much, 'cause we're clean out of whiskey," Wishbone said grouchily.

"Well, Mr. Wishbone, I've been thinking about what the Good Book says about how when the people in the desert didn't have any water, they knocked a rock on the head and some water came out. I thought we could try."

"Mushy," Wishbone said in disgust. "If anything needs knocking on the head, then it's you!"

Mushy looked downcast at the floor, and said nothing.

Meanwhile, each man was staring vacantly into the flames of the campfire. Phillips was rubbing his knee whilst staring at the other men with a wild look in his eye. "We're all gonna die!" he cried fiercely. He stood up, "There's no water in this God-forsaken place! Can't you see that? We're gonna all drop down dead, one by one, till we either rot in the sun, or the birds eat our flesh. There's no hope! We're all gonna die!"

"Shut up, Phillips," Rowdy said, standing up. "Someone once told me there's no changing anything by getting all riled up. Well, he was right, and it's time you learnt that!"

Favor smiled at Rowdy when he heard him say that. It was a smile that showed pride and even admiration. Rowdy looked at him, and both men's eyes glimmered with respect for the other.

Phillips had sat down again now. A dreadful silence ensued, which Mr. Favor finally broke by saying, "Alright, men. It's time to bed down for the night."

Perhaps it was a little early, but no one argued – no one minded. Sleep was the only thing that could perhaps make them forget their troubles.

"I never thought it would end this way," Scarlet whispered to Quince as they fetched their bedrolls from the supply wagon.

As Favor watched his men turning in for the night, he felt a feeling of desperation come over him. _Trail bosses have been losing cattle before my time – I know that. I just can't help but feel…_

But Favor couldn't put words to how he felt, so he just grabbed his bedroll, and turned in, too.

The night was calm. Each man fell asleep, one by one. All was peaceful and still. That was, until midnight.


	4. The Fight

**Last time: Drought has set in, and now the waterhole turns out to be poisoned with hemlock. Dexter has died from poisoning, and now everyone has gone to bed – but they are soon to be awoken...**

Chapter 4: The Fight

Rowdy started. He was sure he could hear a noise. It wasn't that of a coyote, or even a steer at that. It was the sound of someone creeping past him, and true enough, he could almost feel someone's shadow pass over him.

Slowly, he brought himself to his feet. Making sure that he didn't kick an unsuspecting drover, he edged his way over the sleeping men, following the faint outline of a man that he could just make out in the dim starlight. The moon had chosen this moment to hide behind a cloud, so the usual brilliant light that the moon let give was not ready at Rowdy's disposal.

Rowdy followed the man all the way to the remuda. It was here that the man stopped, and all that Rowdy could hear were some muffled preparations to tacking up a horse. The muscles in Rowdy's face tensed in anger, though why he felt this feel of rage, he could not quite tell. But something made him think that someone was running out on Mr. Favor, and he didn't like that.

Suddenly, the cloud passed, and the moon illumined the prairie, permitting Rowdy to see Colby about to step into the stirrups and mount his horse. With a flash of fire shooting through his eyes, Rowdy dashed forward, grabbed Colby by the collar, and spun him around.

As soon as Colby saw Rowdy, his eyes grew almost mean with a cruel intensity of rage.

"What are you doing?" Rowdy asked in a harsh whisper.

In answer to Rowdy's question, and with eyes glaring, Colby dealt Rowdy a blow that sent him flying. Rowdy's nostrils inflated wide like an angered bull's, and his mouth convulsed with his outrage and indignation. Pulling himself to his feet, Rowdy clenched both his fists as his sides, and the two men carefully encircled the ground upon which they stood, watching each other's every move.

Rowdy made the next move - his temper could hold out no longer! He sprang at Colby, and punched him unmercifully, in full vent of his rage. The two men struggled violently. They rolled on the ground together, whilst the horses scurried away, as far as their ropes would permit, in fright. It was the sound of the startled horses that first woke Mr. Favor up, and as he lay there for a second or two, trying to gather his thoughts and focus his mind on the noise, the sounds of the two men fighting each other also met his ears, and he sprang to his feet in alarm. Crossing the now awakened camp, he ran to where the fight was taking place – and where, already, a few spectators had gathered.

"Stop it! Rowdy! Colby! Break it up!" he cried. He grabbed Rowdy, and it was all he could do to keep the infuriated youth away from his adversary. Pete Nolan took hold of Colby and pulled him to his feet, but Colby shook him off, and stood there, breathing heavily.

"What's this about?" Favor cried.

Colby smiled in his usual curt manner. "Asking questions again, Mr. Favor?" he asked.

"Rowdy?" Favor turned to his ramrod, knowing that he had no chance of getting information off Colby.

Rowdy was almost snarling at Colby. "Let me go, Mr. Favor," Rowdy said, his chest still heaving. "Let me lick the jasper!"

"I said that's enough Rowdy, and I expect you to obey orders. Now, who started this?"

"Rowdy did," Colby said simply.

"Why, you lying coyote!" Rowdy cried. "You know that's not true. You punched me first – I swear it Mr. Favor. Let me wallop him!"

"Enough, Rowdy!" Favor repeated. "You say he's lying, Rowdy?"

"Of course he's lying, and I'm gonna nail it to the counter! What do you mean by saying I started it?"

Colby smiled, "You crept up behind me. Ain't a man entitled to a little bit of privacy?"

"But what do you mean by saddling your horse up?" Rowdy asked.

"What do you mean by poking your nose in my business?" Colby retorted.

"Where were you headed for, Colby?" Favor demanded.

"Like I said before, Mr. Favor," Colby said, "mind your own business!"

Favor frowned. "Alright, Colby. I gave you a fair warning last time – but I don't have time for any more trouble. You're fired!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Favor," Colby said.

"Like I said, Colby. You're fired." Favor looked around him for the cook. "Wishbone, make sure he gets what's coming to him."

Wishbone, grumbling to himself about the 'unearthly' time, went to get the man's pay, and Colby followed, after staring at Favor threateningly for one last time.

"Why didn't you let me lick him, boss?" Rowdy Yates asked.

"Rowdy, you know I don't allow fighting!" Favor said sternly, as he released his grip on his ramrod.

"I didn't have much choice, Mr. Favor. He flew at me first. I'd like to have knocked him galley west!"

Favor raised his eyebrows, and shook his head slowly. "With your temper, Wishbone's stubbornness, and Jesus' superstition, I've got a right outfit on my hands!"

"Boss," Rowdy said, "I don't think we've heard the last from Colby. I think it was a mistake to let him go."

"My mistake to make," Favor said simply. "Now, it's night time, and I'd _like_ to get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, so I suggest you get some sleep, too."

Rowdy nodded his head. "Alright, Mr. Favor," he said, and walked off to let his anger cool.

Favor shook his head at Rowdy, and then headed back to his bedroll. "Alright," he called to the men, "let's get some sleep."

The men settled down once more, hoping that they wouldn't have any more disturbances, and they weren't disappointed.

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><p><strong>Please review my story! Thankyou!<strong>


	5. The Price

**Last time: Drought has left Favor's men without water. When the next waterhole is poisoned, and Dexter drinks from it and dies, the men are sure that there is no hope. But then Rowdy catches Colby escaping in the dead of night, and after the two men fight, Favor fires Colby, who leaves swearing that Favor has made a mistake!**

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><p>Chapter 5: The Price<p>

The next day, no one felt like getting up. The food seemed dry and almost inedible – and the weevils seemed more plentiful! Everyone seemed relieved that Colby was gone, (for he had not been companionable!) but not even that could bring a smile to anyone's face.

The summons to 'butt those saddles' was given, and then once more they headed them up and moved them out.

Inevitably, the sun seemed hotter today, now that they were completely out of water. Everyone looked weary and fatigued as the relentless heat beat upon the pitiful group unmercifully.

It was as they were riding, that suddenly Pete, who had gone on ahead, appeared out of nowhere, and rode up to Rowdy and Mr. Favor who were riding together.

"Mr. Favor," he cried, "riders up ahead. They're coming this way!"

Favor frowned. "Riders? Out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"That's right, Mr. Favor," Nolan said, nodding his head.

"Perhaps they might know of some water nearby," Favor said suddenly. "Come on Pete, Rowdy, come with me."

The three drovers rode together for some distance towards the approaching cloud of dust. Once they got near enough, Favor could make out about thirty men. It was when they were a few yards away that he could tell for sure that the man at the front was none other than Colby.

"Colby!" Favor said, in surprise.

"That's right, Mr. Favor," Colby said. "You know, you're just too clever. We never had a chance of poisoning you."

"You mean _you_ poisoned the waterhole?" Favor asked, frowning.

"That's right – my men did. You never caught me going out to meet them – going out to get some nice, fresh cold water."

Rowdy glared at Colby, and went to dismount, but Favor stopped him.

"Fresh water? Where from?"

"You want some fresh water, Mr. Favor," Colby said. "You come and get it. Of course, they'll be a price to pay."

"What'll it be?" Favor asked, knowing that if he was going to save his herd and his men, then he would have to agree to the terms, no matter how excessive. "Name your price."

Colby smiled. "What a turn of events, Mr. Favor!" he cried. "You were giving orders – but now you're taking mine!"

"Could be," Favor said, "but I haven't heard your terms yet."

Colby smiled, and leaning on the horn of his saddle, said, "I want the cattle!"

Favor's brow darkened, and he shook his head, "Sorry, they're not mine to sell."

"But they're gonna die, Mr. Favor – your men are going to die. You need water, you need it bad. Now what's it gonna be? Are you going to save your cattle and men's lives, or are you going to keep a bunch of dead carcasses? For that's what they're gonna be soon enough!"

He laughed horribly.

Favor hesitated, and Rowdy took advantage of the momentary pause. He practically exploded with fury!

"You thieving coyote!" he cried. "Mr. Favor – don't listen to him. We can pick 'em off hands down!"

"There's not going to be any shooting, Rowdy," Favor said.

"That's right, Yates," Colby said. "Remember, he doesn't allow fighting on his outfit."

"You seem to be forgetting something, Colby," Rowdy returned. "Mr. Favor always said he don't allow his men to fight each other. You're not one of his men anymore, so I _can_ fight you!"

A cloud quickly passed over Colby's face, but it went as suddenly as it had come. Colby laughed, "You think you're gonna threaten me out of the deal I'm making with Mr. Favor?"

"We haven't made any deals yet," Gil Favor interrupted.

"That's right," Colby said. "Let's try speeding things up a bit, shall we? I've got here a bunch of impatient men. Do you want to know why they're impatient? Well, I kinda promised them a bit of excitement – and I don't want to disappoint them. You agree with my terms, we get the cattle, and they can kill 'em and skin 'em. You don't agree to my terms, they can kill and skin you."

"You wouldn't do a thing like that!" Favor insisted.

"It's up to you to find out, Mr. Favor. It's either you or the cattle – what's it gonna be?"

Favor stopped. His brain didn't seem to want to work, what with the pressing heat and all. What should he do? There was no way out, surely!

Colby was also impatient. "Your time's running short, Mr. Favor!" Colby said. "I'm gonna get the cattle either way – whether it's the hard way or the easy way!"

"Mr. Favor, you can't give in to him – he's crazy!" Rowdy cried, grinding his teeth furiously in his hard set mouth.

Favor shook his head in defeat. "I have to, Rowdy. There's nothing else I can do." He turned to Colby. "Alright, Colby, whatever; now show us the water."

Colby smiled with relief, and rode right up to Mr. Favor. "Let's shake hands on it, Mr. Favor."

Favor kept his hands where they were. "I don't shake hands with swindlers, Colby."

Colby raised an eyebrow at Favor's frankness, but waved it off.

"Where's the water?" Favor repeated.

"It's in a ravine just behind those rocky hills." Colby said in reply.

Favor looked to his left. "Impossible – Pete says they're inaccessible!"

"They are, but not all the way. You won't see the opening to the ravine till you get there."

"Then I suggest you get moving, and show us the way," Favor said sternly.

Colby shook his head. "You always were the one to give orders, Mr. Favor – but now I'm giving the orders. I told you where you can find the water – now hand over your guns, before I send one of my men to poison the waterhole!"

Favor's cheek bones tensed. He turned to his ramrod and scout. "Alright, Rowdy, Pete, you heard him. Give him your gun belts." Favor reached into his pocket, and drew out a cigarette. He put it into his mouth, and turned to Pete and Rowdy before either of them had had a chance to undo the buckles on their gun belts. "I can't smoke a cigarette without any ignition! Could either of you light a shuck for me?"

Rowdy and Pete's eyes lit up as they got the message. The boss wanted them to light a shuck out of there, and start a stampede!

"Sure thing, boss," Rowdy said. "Here," he fumbled in his pocket for a match, and handed it to Mr. Favor.

"Want a cigarette, Colby?" Favor asked, before he struck the match.

Colby frowned distrustfully and hesitated, as if wondering if there could be a trick in this. Seeing none, he nodded his head briskly, "Alright, but take your gun belt off."

"As soon as I light my cigarette," Favor said, handing Colby one, and then striking the match, and putting it up to the end of Colby's cigarette. Rowdy watched his every move, waiting for the right moment to get moving.

Suddenly, Colby gave an exclamation! In lighting the cigarette, Favor had dropped the match onto Colby. In the same instant that his attention was diverted in trying to put out the small flame, Gil Favor, Rowdy and Pete kicked their horses with all their might, and tore along to where the cattle were still some way behind, shooting behind them at Colby's followers.

"Get the cattle stampeding!" they yelled to the other drovers. They shot wildly in the air, but the wearied cattle didn't seem to be paying any notice. The other drovers, obeying the orders blindly, rode behind the cattle, shouting, throwing lassos above their heads, and firing bullets. Finally, the cattle could take it no more, and with a long moan, they surged forward.

"Keep 'em on!" Rowdy cried, riding up behind the cattle. He looked to his right. Favor was riding next to him, shouting at his voice's extreme limit.

By now Colby and his men were riding in their direction, to retrieve Favor and his men, but they stopped in their tracks when they saw the cattle tearing towards them.

"Why you couldn't just do the simplest thing and put bullets in them, I don't know!" Colby was shouting at his men.

"We didn't have a chance," one man retorted.

"No, of course you didn't!" Colby said. "You good-for-nothing idiots! Why do you let a prize like this run away?"

There was nothing they could do now except turn around, so they did, with the stampeding cattle close on their heels!

The cattle tore along, like a tornado, trampling over anything that was in their way. As soon as Mr. Favor saw Colby and his men retreat, a look of relief showed in his eyes. But it wasn't over yet – he knew that. He had mistaken Colby's character when he had signed him on, but there was one thing about this man that he did know. He wasn't a man to give in – that was the truth of it. Mr. Favor knew that, and was ready to expect the worse.

Favor knew that they had to get to that waterhole – but they had to get there before Colby did!

By now the cattle were slowing down, for Favor and Rowdy had turned them into themselves, so that they would stop. It was then that Gil Favor realized that he had been shot in the shoulder. It was bleeding slightly, but the wound wasn't bad.

"You hurt Mr. Favor?" Rowdy asked.

"I've had worse scratches before," Favor said in reply. "Rowdy, I need to get to that waterhole. I'm leaving you in charge of the cattle!"

"Oh, no you're not," Rowdy said. "I'm coming with you."

Favor shook his head at his ramrod's stubbornness, but for once didn't argue. "Alright," he said. "Pete, you're in charge then – and _don't_ say no."

Pete smiled, "Alright, Mr. Favor. I won't say no, but I think you're wrong. You need more than just you and Rowdy going into what could be an ambuscade of about thirty men."

"Fewer men will be less conspicuous. We might be able to reach the waterhole without being seen – and as we hang around here, they're getting nearer to where they shouldn't get. Rowdy and I can move faster than a group of thirty men. It's decided Pete, you're in charge! You know what to do if we don't come back. Remember, Pete; the cattle always come first!"

Pete watched Rowdy and Mr. Favor ride off in the direction of the rocky hills, and then turned to the long line of cattle and men.

"Head the cattle in that direction," Pete called to the men.

The chuckwagon drew up next to him. "What's going on?" Wishbone said. "Mr. Favor just fancy a bit of excitement or something, starting the cattle up like that?"

"No time to explain," Pete said. "Keep on for the rocks."

Wishbone pulled a face, but started the team of horses up again with a snap of the reins, making the wagon lurch forward, and poor Mushy nearly fall from his seat.

Meanwhile, Rowdy and Gil Favor were riding towards the rocks. They still couldn't see the ravine that Colby had mentioned. In fact, Rowdy was sure that the curly wolf had invented such a ravine and waterhole just to make Mr. Favor bargain with him. How Rowdy wished that he had finished that fight with Colby the previous night. He would have liked to have knocked him senseless, and wiped that smile from his face. He might still have his opportunity yet – and that was what Yates wanted most.

There was no time for talk between the two determined men. Both thought only of what was up ahead. The danger, the risk, the possibility of not seeing the herd again…

They faced that every day! A cowboy's life wasn't the most tranquil, but wasn't that why they chose such a life? They faced risk and danger just being around the cattle, for fear of stampedes, and the occasional pending dangers of drought, rustlers – it was just too bad if they got everything at once, as they had this time. But they hadn't signed up for a ride and a laugh. They'd signed up for the adventure, the peril, the jeopardy. That was what a cowboy loved!

The two men covered the ground between the cattle and rocks quite quickly. Their only question, though, was how quickly had Colby and his men covered the range of ground? They were nowhere in sight, which seemed to mean that they were already at the ravine; or perhaps they were headed for it, and Rowdy and Favor were perhaps riding in the wrong direction!

"Mr. Favor," Rowdy finally called across to his boss. "There's an opening over there. That might be it," he said, with no little surprise in his voice. He really had been quite sure that Colby had made up the waterhole, but perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps this was the opening of the gorge that Colby had spoken of.

Favor nodded his head in acknowledgment to Rowdy, and the two men changed rein, and led their horses towards the dark opening.

"This is it," Favor said, as soon as they arrived at the mouth of it. "No two openings could possibly be alike. Colby said it was hidden from view until you get here – he was right."

"Mr. Favor, I don't like this," Rowdy said. "You know what's up ahead."

"I know as much as you know Rowdy, which is a pretty good guess. But we might have managed to get here before Colby. That is our only chance. Now, are you coming?"

Rowdy rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I think it's dumb, but I'm with you."

Favor gave a brisk nod of appreciation, and then led the way, Rowdy following behind him.

Mr. Favor was looking intently up at the rocks. It would be perfect for Colby to be lying in wait up in those rocks, but then again, he might not be there. They might have beaten him to it. Surely, Rowdy and Gil Favor kept thinking, surely if Colby was up there, they would have started firing now. Surely the silence was a good sign! Surely they would have seen Colby arriving across the prairie! Surely…surely…

The two men jumped as a great rattling noise sounded next to them, making them grab for their guns. A loose stone had rolled down the rocky face of the cliff. Rowdy smiled in relief and replaced his gun, but Mr. Favor looked tenser and kept his gun in his hand, whilst still encouraging his horse on.

Rowdy looked at Mr. Favor's tense face, and followed his gaze. He was staring at where the rock had stirred from. Rowdy frowned, but something, an awful sense of the silence which seemed to have muted both Mr. Favor and himself, and to make the slightest sounds deafening, stopped him from speaking. He drew his gun once more and, frowning as he squinted up at the rocks, urged Fox onwards.

That was when they saw it. It glistened like a gem in the sunlight – the barrel of a gun. With immense alacrity, the two men kicked their horses, and galloped through the gorge. At the same instant, a volley of bullets burst forth from somewhere up in the rocks above. Favor and Rowdy charged with all their might, hoping that the bullets would miss.

Suddenly, they could see the waterhole up ahead. True enough, a glistening, cool, clear pool of water rippled gently not a hundred yards from their ever-nearing horses. With new-found energy they pressed forward until the gorge was behind, and the waterhole was right there, in front of the two horses. At the same moment, the shooting stopped, and Gil Favor knew that they had got through – but it wasn't over yet!

Favor was glad to see water, but he wondered how the cattle could get through the gorge without being seen. How could they not be seen? No, there had to be another way. Perhaps if he and Rowdy could creep up behind Colby and his men – would there be some way? But they were outnumbered, badly. He turned to Rowdy, but all he saw was Fox, with an empty saddle.

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><p><strong>Thankyou for the reviews! I really appreciate them! Please keep them coming!<strong>


	6. The End

**Last time: After many difficulties, which include drought and a poisoned waterhole, Favor has fired one of his drovers, a man called Colby. But now Colby has turned up again with a band of men demanding the cattle in exchange for water. Favor has managed to get out of the deal, knowing that Colby will still be after the cattle. Now Rowdy and Favor have ridden on in search of the waterhole, and after escaping an ambuscade in the gorge, Favor has discovered that Rowdy is no longer in his saddle!**

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><p>Chapter 6: The End<p>

"Rowdy!" Favor exclaimed in alarm. He looked back to the gorge, and his heart missed a beat when he saw a still body on the ground. Favor dismounted, and ran towards it, but at the same instant, a bullet sent a cloud of dust scurrying by his foot. Favor darted behind a rock, and looked first at where the bullet had come from up in the rocks, and then at Rowdy's still form. Two men were by Rowdy's body now, and they roughly carried him up into the rocks.

Gil Favor's thoughts dashed about in his head wildly. What could he do? He had to save Rowdy! Why, Rowdy might be dead even now. A sickening chill crept up Favor's spine as he thought that, but he waved off the dreadful prospect. There was nothing to do, he knew, except give in.

"Alright, Colby," Favor called in a remarkably and admirably steady voice. "I'll throw my gun away, if you'll take me instead of Rowdy."

He walked away from the rock with his hands kept visibly well away from his gun; at the same moment, Colby appeared up in the rocks with a shotgun held in his two hands. He had a smug look on his face, and seemed to be enjoying a sense of power.

"You're ready to give in now, huh Favor? Ready to listen sensibly," he laughed horribly. "Well, I wanted to see you come crawling, on your hands and knees, coming begging to me – but maybe you've come a bit too late."

"How is Rowdy?" Favor called. "I'm ready to take his place."

"Oh, he's alive – at the moment," Colby said, enjoying this immensely. "But the only exchange I'll make is him for the cattle. You only get Rowdy, if we get the cattle. Think about it a minute, Mr. Favor. We can easily finish Rowdy off – easily pick you off – and get the other drovers one by one as they come in. We can see 'em from here, making their way. It's up to you – we are going to get those cattle, whether it's the hard way or the easy way. It's up to you."

At that moment, the two men who had carried Rowdy into the rocks appeared. They pushed Rowdy roughly up to where Colby was standing. Rowdy's head was bleeding badly, and he looked stunned and dizzy, but he managed to speak.

"Mr. Favor," he called. "Don't listen to them. Like you always said, the cattle come first. Don't worry about me."

Favor knew, by now, that he had lost his herd. Chiding himself for signing Colby on, for not questioning him more when he had got into fights, and for not giving him the fight that he wanted to give him now, he said, "Alright, Colby. The cattle are yours, but only if you let me tend to Rowdy."

"No, Mr. Favor," Rowdy protested weakly. "The cattle…"

"You have to give in your gun, though, Favor," Colby said. "And don't try anything smart, because Yates won't fare well if you do."

Favor nodded his head, and untying the string around his right leg, and unbuckling his gun belt, he threw the gun the furthest point from him. It clattered among the rocks as it hit the floor of the ravine.

"Okay, Favor," Colby called, ushering him with a move of his gun. "Come on up."

Favor made his way up to the rocky walls, and then scrambled up. The two men had let Rowdy go, and he was on his knees, breathing heavily, whilst trying to clear a way through the fuzziness in his head. Favor looked briefly at Colby, and then rushed to Rowdy's side.

"Rowdy, you alright?" he asked in concern.

"Boss…you shouldn't have…the cattle…" Rowdy murmured.

Favor shook his head. "You need to rest up. Over here," he helped Rowdy up, and led him over to a pile of rocks.

Once he had sat Rowdy down, the young ramrod squinted up at his boss. The blood was trickling down his face, and he could taste it in his mouth. He could feel the trail boss's fingers undoing the knot that tied the two ends of his bandana together, and then it was firmly applied to his head.

"Mr. Favor," Rowdy said, struggling to place his words as he spoke.

"No, Rowdy," Favor said. "Quiet now."

"But, Mr. Favor…the cattle…"

"What about them? We were bound to lose them one way or the other – whether the drought took 'em, the poison, these men by force, or us giving in."

"But you might have had a chance yet." Rowdy said, his words becoming less slurred, and more orderly.

"Rowdy, you've hurt your head. Quiet now, and rest," Favor commanded.

"But I am thinking right, Mr. Favor. This has knocked some sense into me, if anything," Rowdy retorted.

"We don't have a chance," Gil Favor said, looking around him at the men standing around, waiting for the approaching cattle. "Our only chance went days ago with this drought!"

"No, Mr. Favor," Rowdy replied, taking hold of the neckerchief and keeping it in place as it soaked up the blood that was oozing out of his head, "our chance went when I fell from the horse."

"That wasn't your fault," Favor said, in truth blaming himself for not keeping an eye on Rowdy.

"Well, I'm kinda blaming myself," Rowdy said. "If it weren't for this, we'd be at the water by now."

"But the cattle wouldn't. This has changed nothing when it comes to the cattle. Colby and his men would still be up in these rocks ready to pick off Pete and the others."

"But you'd have thought of something down there, Mr. Favor. Up here, we're useless. They can use us, but we can't use them!"

Favor looked at Rowdy when he said this, and frowned thoughtfully. "What did you say, Rowdy?" he asked,

"I said…"

"No, no, I heard you," Favor said, musing to himself.

Rowdy looked at him with a puzzled expression, his head on one side so as to try and keep the blood from flowing. The sun beating down on him along with the muzzy feeling from the gunshot wound, gave him an awful headache which pounded in his head loudly. Rowdy went to speak again, but the pain in his head became too much, so he decided to take Favor's advice, and quieten down. So, sitting back against the rock, he watched thoughtfully as he pictured the thoughts milling around Gil Favor's brain. He could almost see the trail boss weighing out everything in his mind as he congealed a plan that might save the herd.

It was then that Colby gave an exclamation of satisfaction. "They're coming near the mouth of the ravine now, Favor. Call out to them and tell them to throw away their guns. Anyone who keeps a gun and goes for it won't have a chance to pull the trigger!"

Favor swallowed slowly, and got up from where he had been squatting next to Rowdy. He discretely whispered to Rowdy, "Keep an eye open," and then made his way over to Colby at the edge of the rocks.

"Alright, Favor," Colby began. "Here's the moment that you can always remember in your days as trail boss. The day when you surrendered your cattle to one of your cowhands, because you were too weak to do anything else," he laughed horribly. "Well, I'll tell you what, Favor, you'd better keep to the rules this time. I want this story to finish just as I want it, so you'd better keep everything in order. One mistake, and your ramrod is gonna be a goner! So listen good and hear what you have to do."

Favor looked at Colby with a piercing coldness that even intimidated Colby's nerve. But Colby had gone this far, and he knew he was going to get those cattle. It was going to be simple!

"Listen, Favor, and listen good. We're not gonna have any more cigarette episodes!"

"I sort of gathered that," Favor said, insinuating with a rapid sweep with his eyes to the many gunned men around the rocks.

"Well, once your man Nolan reaches the mouth of the ravine, you're going to tell them to throw away their guns. Tell them not to run, or they won't have a boss and ramrod to start up another trail some other time. You got that?"

"As clear as a bell," Favor said, with a rueful smile.

"You won't be starting anything up here, either, Mr. Favor. You know why? Because Yates is the bottom line of any trouble started. In other words, if you care a jot about your ramrod, then forget that you ever cared about the cattle!"

Favor frowned at the threat made to his ramrod, but he knew that Rowdy would want him to try and save the cattle. He walked over the rocks, and made his way so that he was above the mouth of the ravine.

"Pete," he shouted down to the scout, who was riding point.

Pete looked up. "Why, Mr. Favor," he exclaimed. "Have you found the water?"

"We've found it alright, but Colby and his men are here. He got me to throw my gun in the rocks down there, and now you need to throw yours away. Do it before you come in, and do as he says."

Colby watched each man reach to undo their gun belts, and throw them as far as they could. He smiled with satisfaction.

"Is that all of them, Favor? Remember to press no tricks, or it's Yates' life."

Favor frowned at Colby, but called down, "Have you all thrown away your guns? Colby doesn't mind killing Rowdy in cold blood if he feels he has to."

Those words made the situation crystal clear for each of the drovers.

"Nolan," the next words came from Colby. "You know what'll happen to Favor and Yates if you start anything, so don't. Two of my men are coming down to get your rifles and shells from the wagon. Don't jump them!"

Colby's men came down to take the guns, receiving glares all round, but no trouble. They took the rifles and bullets back up to the rocks.

Wishbone, who had driven the chuck wagon next to Pete, said, "What are you gonna do, Pete? I sure hope you've got something up your sleeve, 'cause I ain't!"

Pete had been hanging on to Mr. Favor's words. "He said he threw his gun into the rocks. If only one of us could make a dash for it… Wishbone, do you still have that revolver on you? The one you never part with unless you bathe?"

"You're mighty well told I have!" Wishbone exclaimed. "When do you want me to use it?"

Pete thought for a moment. "Just wait for the signal – you'll know when the moment comes."

Wishbone nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Colby's voice sounded again. "Start easing the cattle through."

Pete nodded in assent to the other drovers, and they carefully led the cattle through. Pete looked at every crevice in the rocks. Surely Mr. Favor's gun was somewhere. Just one extra gun would help, though maybe only a little. That was when they all saw the water – and the relief swept over them. The waterhole lay ahead, shining like a long-sought gem in the brilliant sunlight! What's more, the ravine ended before you reached the waterhole, so that the great rocky walls that made the cage through which they were now passing broke off once they were at the water. If they began the attack then, they might have more chance to cause a diversion so that a few of the drovers could creep up behind the rocks, and ascend out of sight, where they could then jump Colby's men. Favor and Rowdy would have already started causing trouble up in the rocks – but they would have to act quickly! He knew that they only had a slight chance, but it was better than none. He drew his horse in close next to the chuckwagon, and muttered his plans to Wishbone, who accepted them with a mere nod of approval. Pete didn't know if they would work, but he told himself over and over again the same words, the last words, that Mr. Favor had said to him before he had left him in charge, "Remember, Pete; the cattle always come first."

That decided it for Pete Nolan. Besides, he was still chiding himself for what had happened to Dexter…was that yesterday? He shook his head. How the time had dragged since then – especially for him. He felt that this was the only way, if at all, he could make up to Mr. Favor for his mistake. Not that anything could ever make up for the death of a man, but…

Pete decided to put Dexter out of his head. He needed to think clearly right now, and a guilty conscience could barely think clearly. Besides, Dexter had drunk that water when he should have been getting on with his work! But Pete heard a voice within that told him that he should have checked it sooner!

Pete's thoughts were disturbed by the gleam of something from the rocks on the ground next to him. It was Mr. Favor's gun! How could he get it without anyone seeing him? He thought quickly, his breath catching in his dry, parched throat. In a split second, he squeezed Spot tightly with his feet, and pulled at the reins with all his might, making the poor horse rear up and buck angrily. Pete didn't waste a moment, but fell from the saddle after the first buck, grabbing the pistol from the gun belt as he did so. He stuffed it into his belt, so that only the butt end protruded, and grabbed Spot's reins, speaking softly to the animal before he remounted. He had the gun now, which made him have new hope. He wished he could have taken the whole gun belt – they would need the extra shells – but he couldn't have risked Colby seeing him carrying it. Colby's men would have seen it, and that would have started the attack too soon – they needed everything to be timed just right. They needed every extra minute!

Finally, they arrived at the waterhole. The weary cattle used the last of their energy to make a desperate charge for the water, lowing happily as they splashed about in the cool, clear water. A few of the drovers were making sure that the cattle didn't drink too much water, for fear that they wold over-hydrate themselves. Pete suddenly realized for the first time the little amount of time they had. A few of Colby's men were beginning to make their way down the rocks now, each man holding a butchering instrument. Pete shuddered at the thought. They had lost cattle to the drought, to the poison, and now to this? The filthy skinners! He wanted to punch each one of them in the face, but timing was the issue. With his back turned towards them, he pressed the gun into Joe Scarlet's hand. Scarlet read in his eyes what he had to do, and instantly saw Wishbone, carefully hiding his gun from view, beginning to get ready. Pete, hidden by the volumes of cattle pouring down to the waterhole, managed to reach the back of the rocks without being seen. Chewing the inside of his mouth with uncertainty and anxiety, he began the ascent.

Meanwhile, up in the rocks, Colby was watching the cattle as they joyfully drank their full, not knowing what lay ahead. He smiled greedily at the thought of how he had paid back Mr. Favor for having fired him; of how he had paid back Rowdy for fighting him; most of all, as he thought of the money that he would get for the hides of all those steers.

Favor looked desperately from where he stood, not far from Colby. He had kept his eyes on Pete the entire time. He knew was he was doing, but he just hoped and prayed with all his might that no one else had seen him.

It was all down to timing? They couldn't have timed it better! Just as Colby's men reached the cattle, Pete reached the top of the rocks and darted behind some large boulders. At that instant, Favor jumped on Colby and fell on him. That was the signal for Wishbone. The swing rider and old cook shot at the startled men, who grabbed for their guns in surprise.

Up in the rocks, Favor was on the ground, rolling over and over with Colby, whilst Pete handled one man who had darted to Colby's rescue, and Rowdy dealt with another. But another man fell upon Pete, trying to drag him from his adversary, whilst another, and the last to have been up in the rocks, made a desperate dart for Rowdy as he finished off his first antagonist with a staggering blow.

Wishbone and Scarlet had managed to take the men by surprise, and had thus shot several of the men. Meanwhile, the shots had made the cattle nervous and jumpy, and seething with what sounded like an angry bawl, the cattle tore around, back through the gorge.

Colby's men, what was left of them, stood in their path – and when a stampede starts, nothing that is in the way gets in the way. Favor's men looked in shock as they saw the men fall in front of the cattle's hooves. It was a horrible way to die – but at least it was quick.

Back in the rocks, Pete had managed to knock his opponent out, and both ramrod and scout watched on, wondering if they should help out the trail boss, as Colby and Favor continued to roll together on the rocks, occasionally dealing each other a punch or blow. But Gil Favor seemed to be doing pretty well himself. Both his face and Colby's were bruised and streaked with blood, but still, breathing heavily, they continued the fight.

Finally, Favor grabbed Colby by the shirt, and punched him in the face so hard that the man fell back on the ground.

He breathed heavily, and looked up at Mr. Favor, "I never thought I'd be saying this to you, Favor, but I'm ready to give up."

"I didn't think you'd say that either," Mr. Favor said truthfully, rubbing his bruised chin. He reached down and pulled Colby up, saying as he did so, "That was the fight I promised you."

"I thought you said I could have it in Sedalia," Colby said, smiling ruefully.

"Sorry, but by the time I get to Sedalia, I think you might be behind bars."

Favor turned to Pete, "Thanks, Pete," he said, smiling.

Pete shook his head. "Don't thank me, Mr. Favor. It was the least I could do – especially after yesterday."

Favor frowned, "No, Pete. The responsibility was as much mine as yours. I'm the trail boss, remember that. I take all responsibility." He turned to Colby. "You need to take some to. Don't think that when I hand you in to the sheriff in the next town I won't mention the hemlock, and what happened to Dexter."

He insinuated to the men to go down to the waterhole, and so they made their descent. The drovers had gone after the stampeding cattle, so only Wishbone and Mushy remained, filling up the water barrels that were tied to the chuckwagon.

The cattle were soon brought back and then the rest of the day was spent in luxury – for a cowboy! Wishbone cooked a stew, which, after the dry sandwiches of the past days, tasted like a dream. Wishbone's whole face shone with the compliments that he received from every one of the men.

"Mr. Favor," Rowdy said, approaching the trail boss. Mr. Favor was standing by himself, looking at his cattle.

"What is it, Rowdy?" Favor asked, turning to his young ramrod. "Got something on your mind?"

"No," Rowdy said. "I just wanted to say thanks for what you did earlier. You were ready to give up the cattle for me. I know how much the cattle mean to you, so thanks."

"I thought that I had already lost them – I couldn't see any other way. And I couldn't have my ramrod dying on me!" he smiled at Rowdy.

Rowdy took in that smile. It wasn't often that he would get a smile from the trail boss. What's more, he knew that Gil Favor hadn't wanted to lose another man. He smiled at the trail boss, wondering if he could ever fathom him out fully, or be like him.

"_I'll never be the trail boss that he is_," Rowdy thought to himself. "_But just to be a little like him - that would make me proud_."

The next day, having filled the barrels and canteens full to the brim with water, they all mounted, ready for a day in the saddle, back on the Sedalia trail.

"Head 'em up; move 'em out!"

**THE END**

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><p><strong>Well, that's it! Please review to let me know what you thought of the story! Thanks! I really appreciate all your reviews!<strong>


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